


Only Smoke is Left

by FagurFiskur



Series: 30 (more) cheesy tropes [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas love each other and hurt each other, in a way only they could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Smoke is Left

**Author's Note:**

> 30 (more) cheesy tropes: #26 Post-Apocalyptic AU
> 
> Obviously this one had to be endverse. Title from Sia's Fire Meet Gasoline.

"I used to see so much farther."

Dean craned his head to the side lazily. Whatever stuff Cas had procured this time, it was a hell of a lot stronger than he was used to. They sat on the floor, leaning against Cas' bed, and every so often Dean would feel like the floor was about to drop from under him.

It was a real effort to focus enough to understand what Cas was saying, and by the time Dean had gotten it, he was already talking again.

"Infinitely far," he continued. "Past the stars, into heaven. Now, even if I could see it, my mind would be unable to comprehend it."

"Comprehend you," Dean added, realizing belatedly that it made no sense. Didn't matter, since Cas wasn't listening anyway.

"The sky used to be a gateway," Cas said. A gateway to home, he didn't say, but Dean heard it anyway, in his pained tone of voice and the way he eyes grew wetter. "Now it's a ceiling. The stars just pinpricks of light instead of giants."

Dean looked up. "That is the ceiling."

Cas laughed. It wasn't a nice sound, too hollow, but it was a hell of a lot nicer than hearing him cry. "An astute observation."

How could Cas use such big words? Had his dose been smaller than Dean's? Or maybe it was the fact that Cas was constantly stoned off his ass, while Dean rarely partook. The only times he ever did was when he felt like he was about to crack under the pressure. The drugs would unwind him for an evening, make him forget everything outside of his own body, and carrying on the next morning would be easier. It wasn't a healthy approach, but who had time for healthy these days?

Then Cas' lips were on his neck and Dean lost his train of thought. He lifted his chin, giving Cas room to work, his eyes closing slowly as bliss overtook him. They did this sometimes, physical stuff, but it rarely lead to sex. Especially not when Dean was like this, too busy taking in the sensation to feel anything approaching arousal.

Cas' lips reached Dean's and they kissed lazily, slow and content like they had all the time in the world. Right now, it felt like they did.

Cas drew back, Dean chasing his lips for a moment before catching himself. He looked up, into Cas' eyes. How had Cas gotten up there? "Tell me," Cas said.

"I love you," Dean said, not needing any further prompting.

Cas kissed him again, hungrier this time, and Dean's hands went to his thighs, steadying them both. Cas was in his lap, he suddenly realized. "I love you," he muttered again against Cas' lips. "Love you."

Dean would never say this if he were sober, a fact he was acutely aware of. In this state, though, his tongue felt loose and there was no filter between his brain and his mouth. It was a fact Cas frequently took advantage of, and Dean couldn't say he minded. Mostly because that would mean admitting he'd ever said anything once he sobered up.

Cas raised his head, kissing Dean's forehead and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. The world started spinning, the floor once again threatening to drop from underneath them, so Dean clung to Cas right back, his mutters continuing against his chest like a prayer, "Love you, love you, love you."

Cas never said it back when they were like this. Instead, he slung the confession around while Dean was sober, when he was pissed at Cas or pissed at something else but taking it out on him. It felt like a slap in the face every time, more like Cas was taunting him than anything else.

But right now, with Cas' arms around him and anchoring him down, with his gentle kisses pressed against Dean's forehead, Dean felt loved. They were messed up and broken and constantly causing each other heartbreak, but right at this moment Dean felt at peace. His universe had calmed, centered around the two of them.

"You're so beautiful," Cas murmured into Dean's hair. "You are everything."

He would never say _I love you_ when they were like this, and Dean was grateful. From Cas, I love you meant something entirely different and much more painful.

It was the last thought Dean remembered having before his consciousness slipped away, leaving him in warm and gentle darkness. When he woke up, it was not yet dawn. He was lying in Cas' bed, alone, his head aching.

Dean sat up, glanced towards the door. He could see Cas sitting on the porch outside, a cloud of smoke rising from him. He stretched, his joints creaking uncomfortably. He had a crick in his neck and he felt vaguely nauseous. On top of it all, they had a mission planned early in the afternoon and Cas was needed to drive his truck.

Dean got out of bed, walked outside and stopped by Cas' side. Cas didn't look at him, instead taking another drag of his joint.

"Would you put that out?" Dean asked. He sounded angrier than he'd intended, but he couldn't bring himself to be sorry. He still felt off-kilter and vulnerable from the night before. He needed to ground himself again. "We need you functional today."

Cas threw the joint down without so much as a glance at Dean and squashed it with his heel. "Whatever you say."

Dean started going down the stairs, but Cas grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him short. Dean turned around, well pissed now, but Cas cut off any potential complaint with his lips. It was a short, hard kiss, their teeth clashing uncomfortably.

Cas pulled away first, and smirked at Dean. "I love you."

Dean felt himself growing red, his own words returning to him full force, making him sick to his stomach. He shouldn't let himself get this vulnerable, least of all around Cas who'd already seen enough of his ugliest sides.

He couldn't even muster up a decent comeback, so instead he wrenched himself from Cas' grasp and strolled back to his own cabin. As he reached the door he turned around, his heart pounding way too hard for those few steps he'd just taken. Cas was still standing on his porch, his arms crossed. It was impossible to see his expression from this distance and through this darkness. Impossible to tell if he was sorry or triumphant over getting the last word.

Dean turned back and went inside, slamming the door behind him, cursing his hammering heart and the pain in his chest.


End file.
